Katniss the Dauntless, Tris the Tribute (CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN)
by IVolunteerAsDauntless
Summary: What happens when Katniss is in Tris's body in Abnegation and Tris is in Katniss's body on the train to the Capitol? Will they survive these different worlds without anybody realizing that they don't belong? Read along as Katniss goes through Dauntless initiation and Tris participates in the Hunger Games, both trying to get back home.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This used to be a crackfic, but I actually had a good idea for it. My friend and I came up with it in art. This is probably going to be bad because I'm still in middle school. (Junior high. My friends made me clarify.) Some characters might be OOC, but I'll try to make sure that they're not. This fic actually stemmed from when I told my friend my account name (and how absolutely ridiculous it is) and she literally gave me the plot for a crackfic. As I've said before, this used to be a crackfic, but I changed it. Rated T because the Hunger Games and Dauntless initiation are not that kid-friendly.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent or The Hunger Games because they are owned by different people and I'm only one person. Also, I'm in **_**middle school! (junior high!)**_

* * *

**Katniss's POV**

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am sixteen years old. My home is District 12. I just volunteered for the 74th Hunger Games in place of my sister, Prim. I got on the train to the Capitol, fell asleep, and woke up in this place where I can only wear gray and I am not allowed to look in mirrors - not that it matters, because I can't find a mirror anywhere. I know that this can't be the Capitol because it is the exact opposite of it. Whenever I ask where I am, I am told that I am being selfish by asking something that I know the answer to because I am unnecessarily disturbing other people. I don't know why they think that I know where I am. The gray-clothed people are telling me that I need to take a test soon. They also keep calling me 'Beatrice'. My hair is not in the braided hairdo that my mother put it in, it is in a tight bun. I pulled a strand from it and it is blonde, like the hair of merchants. I'm even shorter than I remember, and I have light skin - also like the merchants. I have no idea where anybody that I know is, but there is a boy about my age in the next room. I heard him being called 'Caleb' once. I can't find weapons anywhere, so the safest thing for me to do is play along and pretend to be 'Beatrice,' whoever she may be, until I can get out of this place. It might just be a dream, after all.

* * *

**Beatrice's POV**

My name is Beatrice Prior. I am sixteen years old. My home is Abnegation. I just left my house to take the aptitude test, which determines which of the five factions I belong in. I swallowed the serum from the Dauntless woman, Tori, and now I am on a train in a foreign land. The people around me are dressed oddly, wearing clothing that belongs to no faction. I have olive skin and black hair in an elaborate braided hairdo, even though just a few minutes before I had light skin and blonde hair in a tight bun. The woman nearby me is wearing a brightly colored wig, more makeup than I knew existed, and again, clothes belonging to no faction. The man nearby has olive skin, gray eyes, black hair, and reeks of alcohol. The boy nearby me won't stop staring at me. He has light skin, - like mine used to be - blond curly hair, and blue eyes. He looks worried. The people called me Katniss - an odd name. I am wearing an Erudite blue dress. I'm confused - why would I be wearing Erudite colors? - but clothing is the least of my worries. The man and the boy - I think the man called him 'Peter' - are talking about something, and I keep hearing the words 'die', 'death', and 'killed'. My instincts tell me to play along, so I'll pretend to be this 'Katniss' until I can leave this place. It might just be my aptitude test, after all.

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**A/N: So, what do you think? Like it? Hate it? Find it the absolutely ridiculous work of a imbecilic child? Tell me! I really don't care if it's all hate, I'm making more chapters anyway! Just review, please, I want to know what people think. And, don't worry, the chapters will be longer, this was just a little prologue. Thanks! Next chapter will hopefully be up soon! Bye!**

**-IVolunteerAsDauntless**


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: Hi, readers! Here's the first chapter! (Katniss went back in time an hour or so, but no one's perfect!) Also I'm in **_**junior high, **_**because my friends will kill me if I use the term **_**middle school**_**. **

**Disclaimer: I didn't own them last week, so I don't own them this week.**

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**Katniss's POV**

I'm on the bus, where there are people dressed in black and white, red and yellow, blue, and gray. The boy, Caleb - maybe Beatrice's brother? - just gave up his seat to a man in black and white. I don't know why he had to, people normally aren't so nice. Maybe I'm just dreaming about being in a utopia? Yeah, that's probably it. Although, if it _is_ a utopia, I see no reason for everybody to be segregated by the color of their clothes, like they seem to be here. As I look around, I notice certain behaviors that are specific to each clothing color. The ones in black and white are very loud, the ones in red and yellow are very happy, the ones in blue seem to be observing everything, and the ones in gray seem to be trying to deflect attention off of themselves. I'm wearing gray, I should try that.

When we get to what looks like a school, I see people dressed all in black _jumping off of trains! _I can tell that they are trains, but they don't look like Capitol trains - although that's the only train that anybody would have a reason to jump off of. Now that I am looking closer, it doesn't look like they're jumping out of fear, they're jumping for fun! The black-clothed people seem to have fun. I wish I could join them.

Caleb tells me to go inside the school, so I do. I'm confused, though. It doesn't look like my school. It has things that we would never be able to afford in District Twelve. Maybe I am in a Career district. It's not like I would know how the districts are run outside of Twelve.

I hear names being called. Suddenly, I am worried that they will call Beatrice's name and I won't do what I'm supposed to when they call it. They call name after name, and then they call Caleb's name. _Caleb Prior._ I guess that makes me _Beatrice Prior, _assuming Caleb is Beatrice's brother. I watch Caleb carefully to see exactly what I will need to do. Unfortunately for me, he goes into a room and I cannot watch what he does after.

More names are called, and then I hear, "Beatrice Prior." I enter the room.

* * *

**Beatrice's POV**

I don't know what else to do, so I lock myself in my room. The Dauntless trains weren't this big, and I'm sure they didn't have huge rooms for everyone. From eavesdropping, I've learned these things: Me, Peter, and 22 other teenagers will be fighting to the death in an outdoor 'arena' in a week; Katniss volunteered for this deathmatch so her twelve year old sister wouldn't have to go; I need to learn to be nice on cameras to get sponsors; Katniss has amazing archery skills, and that means I need to learn archery _in a week. _

I can't believe I am being forced to fight people _to the death. Teenagers, _even. And if Katniss volunteered for her twelve year old sister, that means that children as young as twelve will be in the arena. I don't know if I can become a murderer. I know I have to do it in order to survive. But will I?

"We're _here!" _a shrill voice - Effie, the woman with lots of makeup - chirps. I decide that it's a good idea to leave the room now.

"Katniss!" Peter's eyes light up at the sight of me. If only he knew I wasn't really Katniss.

"Hi, Peter," I say.

"It's Peeta, actually." I mentally slap myself. Why would anyone here have a normal name? A katniss is a plant!

"I-I knew that. I was just joking," I reply, a horrible attempt at covering up my failed attempt at saying his name.

"It's fine if you didn't," he says, then walks to the window.

I follow, and I see massive, brightly colored buildings, and people dressed similarly to Effie.

"The Capitol's huge," Peter - _Peeta_, I remind myself - exclaims breathlessly. I don't blame him; the splendor of it all takes my own breath away. The people are dressed in odd - oh, who am I kidding, _absolutely ridiculously ludicrous _\- ways, but everything is so massive. It may be larger than my entire city.

The thought makes me realize something. If the rest of the world never recovered from the war, what is _this? _It can only mean that other parts _did _recover from the war, but there are worse things going on in them. And if this recovered from the war, then what else? What else recovered and did horrible things? Maybe there's a place where people are tortured for no reason. Maybe a place where disease has taken over. Maybe - I don't want to think about these horrors anymore. Despite how awed I am by this Capitol, me and 23 other teenagers still have to murder each other in a week.

Soon we are off the train.

* * *

**Katniss's POV**

The woman in black tells me her name - Tori - and to sit. She attaches some wires to me, then her, and hands me a clear liquid. I've been doing everything without question so far, but I don't trust her or the liquid.

"What is this?" I ask, a little harsher than I meant to but just as harsh as I wanted to.

"Can't tell you that. Just trust me," she replies.

I don't trust her in the slightest.

However, I know it will cause suspicion if I don't. And who knows, maybe this _is _a dream and drinking this will make me wake up. I glare at the woman, to let her know that I don't trust her, and swallow the liquid.

* * *

I open my eyes, and I'm in a school cafeteria. There is cheese and a knife on the table in front of me.

"Choose," a voice says.

I don't know what to choose. On one hand, food has never come this easily to me, but on the other hand, I don't trust this place and I want the knife to defend myself.

"Ummm," I say. What do I choose?

"Choose," the voice repeats.

Then I realize: this might be a trap.

"Why?" I ask. Maybe I'll get some answers on how to get out of this place.

"Choose!" the voice yells.

If I don't get answers, I'm not taking anything. I'm pretty positive that it's a trap. I plant my feet and cross my arms. I'm not going anywhere until I figure out what's going on

"Have it your way," the voice says.

Suddenly, a dog stands a few yards away from me. I regret not taking a knife. I'm a great hunter, but I'm small and I have no weapons. I'm even smaller in Beatrice's body.

I learned in school that animals smell fear. I can't be afraid. I sit on the floor as an act of submission so hopefully the dog will leave.

It doesn't. It gets closer, but now it is smaller, tame. Prim would like it. My heart aches at the thought of Prim. Would I ever see her again?

Prim. I see her, reaching out to the dog. It snarls and chases her. I immediately chase after it. As I am running, I realize that it is not Prim, but some girl that I don't know. That doesn't stop me from running. I wrap my arms around the dog. Suddenly, both it and the girl are gone.

I'm on a bus. There is a man in front of me holding a newspaper that says "Brutal Murderer Finally Apprehended!" I keep staring at the word _murderer._ Is that what I would have become if I stayed in my world? Suddenly, I have a thought: What if Beatrice is in my world, and she is in the Games? I feel sick. It's my fault that an innocent person will have to go through the horror of the Capitol's entertainment. No, she is not in my world. This is a dream.

"Well?" He is agitated. "Do you?"

I snap out of my thoughts and look at the picture. The person looks familiar, but at the same time it doesn't. I continue to stare at it.

"Do you?" he repeats.

I don't trust him. I don't trust anything in this world at all.

"Well?"

I decide that the best thing to do is lie. "No, why would I know him?" Then I realize that attitude is probably not the best idea. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't."

"You're lying," he says. "You're lying!"

_"I am not!"_

"I can see it in your eyes."

"No. You can't."

"If you know him, you could save me. You could _save_ me!"

"I've told you already. I don't."

When I open my eyes, Tori looks about as nervous as I do every Reaping Day.

* * *

**Beatrice's POV**

Two women and a man talking in a strange accent are 'prepping' me. This includes painfully scrubbing the dirt off of my skin, painfully waxing the hair off my legs, and making my nails perfectly shaped. I don't know what else to do, so I pretend it doesn't hurt.

"Good news, though. This is the last one," says Venia, a woman with aqua hair and golden tattoos on her face. _Thank God,_ I think. The other two, Octavia, whose _skin is green, _and Flavius, who has purple lipstick, start circling around me with tweezers, along with Venia. I feel very self-conscious, even though it's not technically _my _body.

"Excellent! You almost look like a human being now!" Flavius says. I continue to stand still and not respond. "Let's call Cinna!" These people's names are really confusing me.

I grab my robe. I might have to take it off anyway, but I still want it. The door opens and a young man, Cinna, walks in. I'm very surprised by how, well, _normal_ he looks. Everyone else in the Capitol were so dyed and surgically altered. But Cinna's hair looks like a natural shade of brown. He isn't wearing anything extravagant. At first, I think he's from the place where Katniss is from, until I see his gold eyeliner. No, he is not from Katniss's homeland. He is just a Capitol person who happens to be normal.

"Hello, Katniss. I'm Cinna, your stylist," he says, and he does not have a Capitol accent either. Strange.

"Hello," I reply. I probably said it in a shyer way than I meant to.

"Just give me a moment, all right?" Sure enough, he makes me remove my robe. He walks around my - or Katniss's, I guess - naked body, and I feel self-conscious again. "Who did your hair?"

_I have no idea,_ I think. What's a good answer? Let's see what I know about Katniss's family. She has a twelve year old sister… That's all I know about Katniss's family. I just say, "My mother."

"It's beautiful. Classic really. And in almost perfect balance with your profile. She has very clever fingers." I have no idea how to reply, so I don't. "Why don't you put on your robe and we'll have a chat."

I pull on the robe and follow him into a sitting room. He presses a button - _a button - _and food appears on the table. While I am shocked that food _literally _just appeared at the press of a button, all I can't think is that I never would have been able to eat this in Abnegation.

Abnegation. I miss home. I miss my mom, and my dad, and Caleb. I wonder what is happening now? Is Katniss in my body? _No, _I remind myself, _this is just your aptitude test. _But if it's just my aptitude test, why does it feel so real? Maybe I'm dreaming. Yeah, that's it, I'm dreaming. And I dreamt about taking my aptitude test too.

I don't realize that I am staring off into space before Cinna's voice brings me back. "How despicable we must seem to you," he says. He's right. Anybody who helps in a teenager deathmatch is despicable.

"No matter," says Cinna. "So, Katniss, about your costume for the opening ceremonies. My partner, Portia, is the current stylist for your fellow tribute, Peeta." Tribute? Peeta and I are tributes? A person can't be a tribute! A tribute is some gift to show gratitude or admiration! Wait. Katniss's homeland is giving 24 teenagers as _tributes _to the Capitol. But why is Peeta my only "fellow tribute"? Why aren't the other 22 teenagers fellow tributes? I don't realize that I haven't been listening until Cinna says, "As you know, it's customary to reflect the flavor of the district." _District. _Maybe two teens from each _district? _It makes sense. Twelve districts and a Capitol. And I thought the rest of the world was destroyed.

"So what will I be wearing? For my district," I ask.

"Well, because District Twelve mines coal," District Twelve. That's where Katniss is from. Cinna continues, "Portia and I decided to focus on the coal, unlike past stylists who have focused on the mining. And what do we do with coal? We burn it." I don't like where this is going. "You're not afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?" He grins at my terrified expression.

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**A/N: Yay, the first official chapter is up! **_**Please**_** review, I'd love to know what you think! Thank you to Silver and Emeralds for following, July (Guest) for reviewing, and to burinbell for following and favoriting! Next chapter will be up on Monday. Thanks so much for reading, bye!**

**-IVolunteerAsDauntless**


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N: Hi, first off I'm really sorry that this chapter is two days late! I was home sick from school for the better half of a week, and you'd think that would give me plenty of time to write, but no, I was too sick. Again, super sorry! Hope you like the chapter enough for you to forget that I posted it late...**

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**Katniss's POV**

Tori pulls the wires from my forehead. "That," she says, "was perplexing. Excuse me, I'll be right back."

Perplexing? What is that supposed to mean? Did she realize that I'm not Beatrice? Did she realize that I'm not from here? I did everything wrong.

Finally, Tori walks back in. "Sorry to worry you," She looks tense. "Beatrice, your results were inconclusive." Inconclusive? I don't know what that means for this test, but it sounds bad. "Typically, each stage of the simulation eliminates one or more of the factions, but in your case, only two have been ruled out."

"Two?" I ask. I don't know what a faction is, but from what she said, I can tell that more than two should have been ruled out.

"If you had shown an automatic distaste for the knife and selected the cheese, the simulation would have led you to a different scenario that confirmed your aptitude for Amity. That didn't happen, which is why Amity is out." She's right about that. Amity means something along the lines of 'friendliness and harmony,' so I wouldn't have "aptitude" for that. "Normally, the simulation progresses in a linear fashion, isolating one faction by ruling out the rest. The choices you made didn't even allow Candor, the next possibility, to be ruled out, so I had to alter the simulation to put you on the bus. And there your insistence upon dishonesty ruled out Candor." I wish she would explain what Candor is, but she just half smiles. "Don't worry about that. Only the Candor tell the truth in that one." Okay, maybe it's not as bad as I thought. "I suppose that's not entirely true. People who tell the truth are the Candor...and the Abnegation," she says. "Which gives us a problem."

No, I don't want a problem. What even are Candor and Abnegation? Amity has to do with friendliness and kindness, I know that. Candor is related to candid, so Candor must mean honest. What is Abnegation?

"On the one hand, you threw yourself on the dog rather than let it attack the little girl, which is an Abnegation-oriented response...but on the other, when the man told you that the truth would save him, you still refused to tell it. Not an Abnegation-oriented response." What is Abnegation? She sighs. "Not running from the dog suggests Dauntless, but so does taking the knife, which you didn't do." Dauntless? How many of these "factions" are there?

She clears her throat and continues. "Your intelligent response to the dog indicates strong alignment with the Erudite." What does Erudite mean? "I have no idea what to make of your indecision in stage one, but—"

"Wait," I interrupt her. "So you don't know what my test result is?"

"Yes and no. My conclusion," she explains, "is that you display equal aptitude for Abnegation, Dauntless, and Erudite. People who get this kind of result are..." She looks over her shoulder like she expects someone to appear behind her. "...are called ...Divergent." She says the last word so quietly that I almost don't hear it, and her worried look returns. She leans in close to me. "Beatrice, under no circumstances should you share that information with anyone. This is very important."

"Okay. I won't tell anyone my results."

"Good. And I mean you should never share them with anyone, ever, no matter what happens. Divergence is extremely dangerous. You understand?"

I don't understand—how could inconclusive test results be dangerous?—but I still nod. I don't want anyone to find out that I don't belong here.

"Okay." My Divergence is probably because I'm not from here. She hasn't said anything about it, though. I ask just in case. "Are there others who are," I whisper the last word, "Divergent?"

"Yes. In fact, there are probably a few other Divergents in your year. But," she looks me right in the eyes, as if to make sure I completely understand, "that doesn't mean that you should take chances and tell anyone. Ever."

"I won't."

"Good. I suggest that you go home. You have a lot of thinking to do, and waiting with the others may not benefit you."

That's not good. I don't even know where Beatrice's home is! I decide to make an excuse. "I'm not supposed to go home without my brother."

"I'll tell him that you got sick from the serum and that you have to go home without him."

"But-"

"Beatrice, you need time to think about this. Trust me, it will benefit you so much if you go home now."

I will not win this argument. "Okay," I say. I will have to try to remember where Beatrice's house is.

As I walk towards where I think the gray houses are, I realize that I could've taken the bus! I mentally slap myself. I'm so used to walking everywhere at home that I forgot about the buses.

I look at my feet and keep walking because it's pointless to try to find a bus now. I try to figure out what the words Abnegation, Amity, Candor, Dauntless, Erudite, and Divergent mean. I wish I'd expanded my vocabulary! I know that Amity means friendly and Candor is related to honesty. I know that Divergent means a person with inconclusive test results. I don't know what Abnegation or Erudite mean, but I can try to figure out Dauntless. Dauntless has to be related to daunting, so Dauntless must mean undaunted. I could probably use Tori's descriptions to figure out the other two. She told me that my intelligent response to the dog indicated strong alignment with the Erudite. I guess Erudite must have to do with intelligence. Tori also told me that the Abnegation-oriented response was throwing myself on the dog instead of letting it attack the little girl, and the response that wasn't Abnegation-oriented was not telling the man the truth after he said it would save him. The Abnegation-oriented response was selfless. I guess I've figured out the words.

But, I realize, 'divergent' also means 'different.' Inconclusive test results must be different—Tori wouldn't have reacted the way she did if they were normal—but it makes me wonder. Do 'Abnegation,' 'Amity,' 'Candor,' 'Dauntless,' and 'Erudite' have different meanings in this world? I'd look for a dictionary, but that's probably "self indulgent" according to these people's standards.

I look up, and I am in a part of Beatrice's world that I have never seen. I've been here for the better half of two hours and I'm already lost.

* * *

**Beatrice's POV**

I am in a black unitard, leather boots, and a fire colored cape with a matching headpiece. Cinna is going to light them on fire, and I am going to die.

"It's not real flame, of course," Yeah, right, I think, "just a little synthetic fire Portia and I came up with. You'll be perfectly safe." I'm not in the slightest bit convinced. "I want the audience to recognize you in the arena. Katniss, the girl who was on fire." More like Beatrice, the girl who burned to death.

When Peeta shows up, I whisper to him, "Do you think we'll be burned by the fire?"

"I'll rip off your cape if you rip off mine," he replies with gritted teeth.

"Deal," I answer. I don't feel like being scorched today, thank you very much.

The opening music begins. Two "tributes" spray-painted in silver ride out in a chariot. I remember the theory that I had about the twelve districts. This must be District One.

The little girl and massive boy from District Eleven are rolling out when Cinna appears with a lighted torch. "Here we go then," he says, and sets our capes on fire before either of us can react. I'm about to throw a punch—my parents and Caleb would be ashamed of me—but nothing burns. It must be fake fire after all. "It works." He breathes a sigh of relief. I'm not too happy about being his first test subject. I'm reconsidering that punch when he says, "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!"

Cinna shouts and gestures, but I can't tell what he's saying. I ask Peeta, and he replies, "I think he said for us to hold hands." He grabs my hand, and Cinna gives us a thumbs-up. We enter the city.

The crowd starts shouting, "District Twelve!" Every head is turned our way; nobody glances at the other chariots. I smile and hold my head high, just as Cinna told me to. Despite not knowing him, I'm glad to be able to hold Peeta's hand. I feel like I'm going to fall off of the chariot, so I need him to keep me steady.

Somebody throws me a rose, and I almost fall trying to reach for it. Great. The crowd starts laughing, and I feel heat rising to my cheeks. The people probably think that I did it on purpose, but I'm embarrassed anyway.

A small, thin man with paper-white hair welcomes everyone from a balcony above us. I look at the screen that is giving us way more than our fair share of airtime. The camera lingers on Peeta and me as we disappear into a building.

The people who "prepped" me are babbling praise. I glance around, and I can see other tributes shooting us dirty looks. That can't be a good thing, considering we're going to fight to the death soon. Cinna and Portia remove our flaming capes and headdresses, and extinguish them with some spray.

I realize how stiff - ugh, stiff - my fingers have become, and I release Peeta's hand. "Thanks for keeping hold of me. I was getting a little shaky there," he says.

I'm pretty sure I was the shaky one, so I reply, "It didn't seem like it. I'm sure nobody noticed."

"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often. They suit you." He gives me a sweet, shy smile. Oh, no, I think. Does he have feelings for Katniss?

This isn't good. If Peeta has feelings for Katniss, then he might notice that I'm not her. And I can't have anybody discover that I don't belong.

* * *

**Katniss's POV**

I'm such an idiot! How could I get so lost in my thoughts that I just kept walking in a straight line instead of trying to figure out where Beatrice's house is? How am I supposed to find my way back before people get suspicious?

Straight line. All I need to do is turn around! I reverse my route and hope for the best. Of course, the odds have not been in my favor lately.

When I arrive back at the school, the bus is leaving. I hide behind a corner and wait for it to drive a fair distance away, then I follow it. I try to be inconspicuous, but I will probably be questioned later.

There aren't many places to hide while following this bus. I'm sure I've been seen many times. I just keep walking a fair distance behind the bus, hoping that anybody who sees me will think I am just casually strolling along the sidewalk.

Following the bus starts to become tiring, and I get repeated strange looks, but it's the only way to get to the gray houses. Not for the first time today, I regret not observing my surroundings more when I was riding the bus. At least if I did I could've successfully walked to the gray houses.

Closer to the gray houses is a place that looks like Twelve. Or at least, the conditions that the people there live in are similar. They seem to not have enough clothing nor food, like the people of the Seam. It smells horrible, too.

Then the bus stops. And the gray-clothed people get off. And I have to follow. I know I will be questioned; I just need to come up with a good lie.

* * *

**Beatrice's POV**

We ride to the twelfth floor of a building with a tower in the fanciest elevator that I've ever seen. Effie tells us that she and the man who smells like alcohol, Haymitch—wherever he is—, will be overseeing Peeta and me until we get to the arena.

"I've been very mysterious, though," she says. "Because, of course, Haymitch hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies." Strategies! How will I come up with a strategy? But do I even want to win? "But I've done my best with what I had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district." Barbarism? But isn't she helping us prepare for a deathmatch? "Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me," Why am I finding it hard to believe that she can be clever? "I said, 'Well, if you put enough pressure on coal, it turns into pearls!'"

I may not know much about coal or pearls, but I'm pretty sure the latter comes from shellfish and shellfish only.

"Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsor deals for you. Only Haymitch can do that," Effie continues. "But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary." I really have to admire her determination. And she's not so bad. At least she's trying to help.

My quarters are huge. There are so many hi-tech gadgets that I never knew existed! I program the closet to an Abnegation-style outfit. I may not go back alive; I want to feel close to home right now.

Effie knocks on my door and calls me to dinner. It's time for more food that I would never be allowed to eat at home. Oh, I miss home!

No matter. Time to be brave, Beatrice. Though bravery is a Dauntless trait, it's one that I need right now.

* * *

**A:N: Hooray, second chapter! The end was kinda boring, though. "Katniss wanders around and Tris laments about home." Sorry it's so boring! Thank you to manganellom, shantonm23, and Fictionfreak97 for following, and Guest for reviewing! Thanks so much! Bye!**

**-IVolunteerAsDauntless**


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N: Hi readers! I uploaded this chapter earlier in the day to make up for how late I uploaded the last chapter. I slapped this together in three days, but I hope it's good! Without further ado (why did I just say that), ON WITH THE THIRD CHAPTER! (Seriously, **_**why **_**did I just do that?)**

**I forgot the disclaimer last week so:**

**-I didn't own them last week**

**-I don't own them this week**

* * *

**Katniss's POV**

I walk with the gray-clothed people. When Caleb, accompanied by a boy and girl around our age, sees me, he looks confused and worried.

"Beatrice!" he says. "What happened? Why were you walking behind the bus? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I say. "The liquid from the test made me sick, so I left early. I was walking home and—got lost. I turned around but missed the bus." The boy and girl seem to believe me, but I can just _tell _that Caleb doesn't.

"Okay, as long as you're alright," he replies. Then, to the girl, he says, "You're welcome to come over later, if you'd like."

"Thank you," the girl says. She smiles. The boy raises an eyebrow at me. I don't know why.

Caleb stares at the girl as she and the boy walk away. I tap his arm to distract him. We go into the house.

He turns to look at me. "Are you going to tell me the truth now?"

I want to hope that he's talking about something else, but I know he means what happened during the test. "I was told not to share my results," I answer.

"All those rules you bend, and you can't bend this one? Not even for something this important?" If Beatrice is a rule-bender, this just got a lot easier. I'm still not telling him, though. Tori sounded serious.

"Sorry, I can't tell you."

"Beatrice,"

In hopes that he will refuse, I ask, "Can _you_ tell _me _what happened in _your _test?" Our eyes meet, and I can tell that he won't. "Just, don't tell anyone what happened," I say.

I don't know what to do now, so I try to head back to Beatrice's room. That is, until Caleb informs me that it is my turn to make dinner. This task is not as simple as it seems. Usually when I cook, it's game from the day's hunt. I don't know what I'm supposed to do here.

After searching for food, I found chicken and peas. The chicken is frozen and the peas are in a can. Even the way that these people _eat _is confusing.

I'm overjoyed when Caleb comes to help me. At first, I'm worried he noticed that I can't cook these frozen and canned foods, but I soon remember that the gray-clothed people find everything "self-indulgent," so standing idly by while I cook is also probably considered that. I open some packages and pretend to cook, but I really just let Caleb do all the work. I feel a little bad, but I know it's safest.

When Beatrice and Caleb's parents get home, the table is set. Their father kisses my head, and memories of my own father come flooding back. I try to hide the ache in my heart.

"How did the test go?" he asks me.

"Fine," I reply, even though it wasn't "fine" in the slightest.

"I heard there was some kind of upset with one of the tests," their mother says. I hope she doesn't realize that the "upset" was _my _test.

"Really?" says their father. I can tell that problems with the tests are uncommon.

"I don't know much about it, but my friend Erin told me that something went wrong with one of the tests, so the results had to be reported verbally. Apparently the student got sick and was sent home early." She shrugs. "I hope they're all right. Did you two hear about that?"

"No," I reply, maybe a little too quickly.

At the same time, Caleb smiles and says, "No."

We sit at the table and pass food to the right. I've never had this much food at once before, but no one else is eating so I feel like I shouldn't. Everyone starts holding hands, so I just go along with it. Their father thanks a god for food and work, for friends and family. I don't know who this "God" is, and I've never heard of him either.

"So," their mother says to their father, "Tell me. Tell me what's bothering you."

"I had a difficult day at work," he says. "Well, really, it was Marcus who had the difficult day. I shouldn't lay claim to it." These people really take selflessness to the next level. I guess this is Abnegation, the selfless "faction".

"Is this about the report Jeanine Matthews released?" Their mother says. I wish I knew who Marcus and Jeanine Matthews were. It might help me figure out this place.

"Yes. Those arrogant, self-righteous—" He stops and clears his throat. "Sorry. But yes, it's about the report."

"What did it say?" I ask. Just one question can't hurt, right?

I was wrong. Caleb gives me a warning look. This is probably also "self-indulgent". I look at my food, which I have been eating slowly in order to savor it.

"It said," their father says, "that Marcus's violence and cruelty toward his son is the reason his son chose Dauntless instead of Abnegation." Violence and cruelty. Maybe Marcus beat his son like Mrs. Mellark beat her sons.

"Cruel? Marcus? That poor man. As if he needs to be reminded of his loss," their mother says.

"Of his son's betrayal, you mean?" their father says. I guess switching factions is considered a betrayal. How do you even switch factions? That would be nice. "I shouldn't be surprised at this point. The Erudite have been attacking us with these reports for months." _Months? _"And this isn't the end. There will be more, I guarantee it."

I really shouldn't speak again, but I need information. "Why are they doing this?"

"Why don't you take this opportunity to listen to your father, Beatrice?" their mother says kindly. I can't live like this.

"You know why," their father says. _No, I don't, that's why I'm asking! _I think. "Because we have something they want. Valuing knowledge above all else results in a lust for power, and that leads men into dark and empty places. We should be thankful that we know better." I wonder what kind of power the Abnegation have?

Their parents clean up after dinner and don't let us help them, thankfully. I'd mess that up. Caleb and I climb the stairs. When we reach the top and divide to go to our separate bedrooms, he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

"Beatrice," he says, looking into my eyes the way Tori did when she wanted to make sure I understood. "We should think of our family." That seems selfless, so that makes sense. "But. But we also think of ourselves."

I stare at him for a moment. I feel like something is going on that I don't understand. "Okay," is all I say.

He squeezes my shoulder and walks into his bedroom. I walk into Beatrice's, and try and fail to figure out what everyone but I seem to know.

* * *

**Beatrice's POV**

At dinner, a man in a white tunic offers us wine. I turn it down, being the Stiff that I am. Young people dressed in white tunics continue to bring us food, platter after platter.

Soon, a girl sets a cake on the table and lights it. Flames flicker around the edges until it finally goes out. I've never had cake before. It's considered self-indulgent. When I eat it, it tastes amazing.

After we finish the cake, we go into the sitting room to watch the replay of the "opening ceremonies", which is the parade where I thought I would die.

"Whose idea was the hand holding?" asks Haymitch.

"Cinna's," says Portia.

"Just the perfect touch of rebellion. Very nice."

Rebellion? Are they trying to start a rebellion? I can see why—who wants to live in a world where kids die for entertainment?—but I didn't think they were trying. Will I get sucked into this? Will I be able to leave?

"Tomorrow morning is the first training session," Haymitch says. Training sounds good. I won't have a shot in the arena without training. "Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it," says Haymitch to Peeta and me. "Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk." Seriously? "While the grown-ups talk"? We're not _children._

Peeta and I walk to our rooms. He keeps his gaze on me the whole way, and I know, I just _know, _that he realizes something is off, he realizes I'm not Katniss.

I climb under the covers without changing my clothes. I need to figure out how to _leave _here. But maybe, while I'm here, I could make a difference. Stop these people from killing children.

But that's stupid. I can't make a difference, and I most certainly can't survive the Hunger Games. _But it's just my aptitude test._ Right?

* * *

**A/N: I know, it's shorter than the others! Please don't attack me with arrows and throwing knives! I stupidly decided to start writing fanfiction during a time where I have **_**a lot **_**of schoolwork, so I don't really have much time for this, but I try! And I might have spent way too much time reading** **_The Gender Game _****series...but that doesn't matter. ****Nevertheless, I will **_**really try **_**to make longer chapters **_**and **_**upload them on time. Thank you to susietheclumsydragon and Guest for reviewing, and to HunterOfArtemisII for favoriting me. Thanks for reading (and not putting me in the Hunger Games), bye!**

**-IVolunteerAsDauntless**


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N: I have nothing to say. Just read the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I'm just a junior-high-aged fangirl who can only dream of owning one book franchise, let alone two. **

Page break

**Katniss's POV**

I've learned that I have to go to a "Choosing Ceremony." It should be self-explanatory, but I don't know what I'm supposed to choose! I can't think of anything to choose in this world, anything that wouldn't be considered "self-indulgent." How do people live like this?

We're on the bus to the ceremony, and I still have no idea what to do. I can probably do what I did yesterday, just follow Caleb's lead, but something tells me it won't work out well. I've got a feeling that it will be like yesterday, when Caleb went into the test room and I couldn't watch him.

I'm disappointed when we don't take the elevator. I've almost never been on one, and this one seems a lot nicer. But I can understand why we had to take the stairs—_it's self-indulgent. _

I am pushed forward by the crowd—curse Beatrice's small body—and stand next to Caleb, on the edges of concentric circles. Many rows of chairs make up the next circle. In the last circle, there are huge metal bowls. They each seem to contain a different substance. From my angle, I can see stones, coals, and water.

Beatrice and Caleb's father kisses my forehead and claps Caleb on the shoulder. "See you soon," he says to him.

Their mother hugs me for the longest time. I'm suddenly nervous about this ceremony. Before she pulls away, she whispers in my ear, "I love you. No matter what." _No matter what? _What is going on?

Caleb grabs my hand and squeezes it so tightly it hurts, only reinforcing the idea in my mind that something bad is going to happen. I'm still questioning why their mother said "No matter what."

A man stands at a podium. "Welcome," he says. I listen closely, hoping to gather information about what I'm supposed to do. "Welcome to the Choosing Ceremony. Welcome to the day we honor the democratic philosophy of our ancestors, which tells us that every man has the right to choose his own way in this world. Our dependents are now sixteen." So it's a ceremony of sixteen-year-olds. What did he mean when he said that they were honoring the philosophy of everyone choosing their own way in the world?

"They stand on the precipice of adulthood, and it is now up to them to decide what kind of people they will be. Decades ago our ancestors realized that it is not political ideology, religious belief, race, or nationalism that is to blame for a warring world. Rather, they determined that it was the fault of human personality—of humankind's inclination towards evil, in whatever form that is. They divided into factions that sought to eradicate those qualities they believed responsible for the world's disarray. Those who blamed aggression formed Amity." I'll finally learn what the words mean! Somewhat, anyways.

"Those who blamed ignorance became the Erudite. Those who blamed duplicity became created Candor. Those who blamed selfishness made Abnegation. And those who blamed cowardice were the Dauntless. Working together, these five factions have lived in peace for many years, each contributing to a different sector of society. Abnegation has fulfilled our need for selfless leaders in government; Candor has provided us with trustworthy and sound leaders in law; Erudite has supplied us with intelligent teachers and researchers; Amity has given us understanding counselors and caretakers; and Dauntless provides us with protection from threats both within and without. But the reach of each faction is not limited to these areas. We give one another far more than can be adequately summarized. In our factions, we find meaning, we find purpose, we find life. Apart from them we would not survive. Therefore this day marks a happy occasion—the day on which we receive our new initiates, who will work with us toward a better society and a better world."

I think the sixteen-year-olds choose what faction to live in! I can leave Abnegation! But would Beatrice? I need to make a decision based on what she would do, but I don't know what she would do. Again, my mind returns to when Beatrice's mother said that she loved her "no matter what." Does that imply that Beatrice would leave? I hope it does.

I watch the procedure carefully. The man calls a name, that person comes up, they cut their hand with a knife—a little extreme, I think—and they stop their blood into one of the bowls. Simple enough, but which bowl?

After a few teenagers have chosen, I've figured out which bowl goes with which faction. I don't know which faction to choose, though. What did Tori say I had aptitude for? Abnegation, Dauntless, and Erudite. I'm not picking Abnegation. "Those who blamed ignorance became the Erudite," the man's words flash through my mind. "Those who blamed cowardice were the Dauntless." Do I blame ignorance or cowardice for the world's problems? I blame both. I blame all of them. I can't just _choose._ What is wrong with this place?

Before I know it, Caleb's name is called. He squeezes my hand one last time, looks over his shoulder at me as he walks away. He cuts his hand with the knife, and pours his blood into the Erudite bowl.

Cries of outrage fill the room. There was a faction transfer before Caleb, and no one was too upset. It must be because he chose Erudite. Then it's settled: I'm not choosing Erudite. I will jump off trains with the Dauntless until I can get back home to Prim.

The man has to call for quiet, and then he calls, "Beatrice Prior."

As I walk, I start to forget my plan. I look over at Caleb in a silent plea for help, and he nods a little. He doesn't realize how unhelpful that is.

The man offers me the knife. I take it, and turn toward the bowls. With no plan, all I can think is, _coal. _I've never believed in magic, luck, or a higher power, but my mind somehow reasons that I'll get back home if I spill my blood on the coals. I live in the coal district after all. I'm delusional.

I cut my hand and let the blood pool in it. My eyes scan across all of the bowls and rest on the Dauntless one. I thrust my arm forward and let the blood drip onto the coals.

Pagebreak

**Beatrice's POV**

I drag myself out of bed and into the shower. I see a control board, and I get the feeling that all the factions would find it strange, not just Abnegation. I tentatively press one button, and find myself in the scariest shower ever. Whatever happened to normal water?

When my shower is finished, I find an outfit that has been left for me. Tight black pants that only Dauntless would wear, a burgundy tunic, and leather shoes. I put my hair in an Abnegation bun, only because I don't know any other hairstyles.

Nobody told me an exact time to meet for breakfast, so I head to the dining room, hoping for food. I'm not disappointed, and I fill my plate with an Abnegation breakfast. I add other foods too, just to deflect any potential suspicions that I'm not Katniss.

I sit and eat, and think about home. Could this possibly be my aptitude test? It's awfully long. But then again, who knows how time works in the aptitude test? Maybe it's only been a few minutes. And these Hunger Games are too horrible to be real. Plus, the rest of the world is destroyed. It has to just be my aptitude test.

But how do I act? I don't know what result I want, I was counting on the test to tell me. I should act natural—but natural doesn't seem the best way to act. I'm going to fight to the death, after all. How do you act natural while slitting someone's throat, or fighting for your life?

Haymitch and Peeta walk in, tell me "Good morning," and fill their plates. Peeta looks slightly confused, and it occurs to me that Katniss might not wear her hair in an Abnegation bun. It wasn't done like that when I woke up here. Peeta is wearing the exact same outfit as me, which I am used to people doing in Abnegation, but I have a feeling nobody does here. Strange.

After Haymitch finishes eating, he takes a long sip from his flask and leans his elbows on the table. "So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now."

"Why would you coach us separately?" I ask, before I can stop myself. I've always been good at speaking when I wasn't supposed to.

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," says Haymitch.

I exchange a look with Peeta. "I don't have any secret skills," he says. "And I already know what yours is. I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels." Squirrels? But Katniss is an archer. Then the pieces fit together, and I realize that she shoots squirrels with her bow.

"You can coach us together," I say. Peeta nods.

"All right, so give me some idea of what you can do," Haymitch says.

Thankfully, Peeta speaks up first. "I can't do anything. Unless you count baking bread."

"Sorry, I don't," Haymitch replies. "What about you, Katniss? Peeta told me you're good with a bow and arrow."

I try not to set my standards too high, so when I'm in the arena not much will be expected of me. "I'm okay."

"No, she's better than 'okay', she's amazing." Peeta says. "My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye. It's the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer."

So much for not setting my standards too high.

Katniss can't be _that _good, can she? "I'm not _that_ good,"

"Believe me, you are. I'm not good at anything." Peeta says. "You know what my mother said, when she came to say goodbye to me? She said District Twelve might finally have a winner. But she wasn't talking about me. She was talking about you."

"Of course she was talking about _you!"_

"She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' _She _is." The pain in Peeta's eyes tells me he isn't lying. "People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you."

"They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor _you."_

Peeta rolls his eyes at Haymitch. "She has no idea. The effect she can have."

What's that supposed to mean? What kind of effect does Katniss have?

After about a minute of awkward silence, Haymitch says, "Well then. Well, well, well. Katniss, there's no guarantee there'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?"

"No."

"Then try to learn. And Peeta, there must be something you can do, I can tell. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?"

Peeta and I nod.

"One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side every minute." Peeta starts to object, but Haymitch slams his hand on the table. "Every minute! It's not open for discussion! I'm your mentor, you need to do as I say! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."

I stalk back to my room and slam the door. I sit on my bed to just _think._ Is it really my aptitude test? It has to be. I never think I'm having a dream when I have a dream. And this world is too horrible to actually exist.

And this is horrible! Presenting us as friends when we need to fight to the death! Horrible!

And why did Peeta defend Katniss's archery skills?

Does Peeta _really _have feelings for Katniss?

How will I win these Games?

Do I want to win these Games?

How do I get back to Abnegation?

What will my test result be?

So many questions, and so few answers. I sit on my bed and wait for ten.

Page break

**A/N: Another small chapter… don't kill me! This one's not **_**too **_**short, but still shorter than I'd like. I couldn't find a way to continue the chapter. I thought it would end best here. Anyway, my point is, I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! SO DON'T KILL ME! **_**Please **_**review. Bye!**

**-IVolunteerAsDauntless**


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N: Before you come after me with butter knives, hear me out. I had standardized testing on top of regular school and responsibilities, and some inconvenient writer's block. So I'm **_**really **_**sorry I skipped two chapters (and that this one was uploaded so late at night, it might not even be Monday for some of you, but that's besides the point). **

**Disclaimer: Young teenagers in 2019 do not own bestselling book and movie franchises that came out in 2008 and 2011. Because they were young children during those years. **

* * *

**Katniss's POV**

My eyes flit around from their focus on the ground every second or so. I followed the other sixteen-year-olds' leads and went to stand by my chosen faction. I wasn't even surprised when I didn't arrive back home after spilling my blood onto the coals, but I can't say I wasn't a little disappointed. The situation is so absurd, who knows by what means I'll get home?

When we leave, I avoid Beatrice's parents and Caleb at all costs. I don't want to know if I've done something wrong, because I'll then have to think up a way to make up for it. And I hate being in someone's debt.

I am pressed forward by the crowd, and the next thing I know, we're running down stairs. Everyone's shouting and laughing, but I'm worried. _Should I have stayed in Abnegation? _Now that I think about it, it was a very rash decision on my part. Who knows what awaits me at Dauntless?

The Dauntless continue to run, blocking a bus at one point. I try to keep up. I can tell Beatrice's body isn't used to all this running; it isn't necessarily hard to run, but nowhere near as easy as I am used to. Still, the sprint is quite enjoyable. As the Dauntless and I continue to run, I hear a train horn.

The crowd spreads into a long line, and I follow suit. The train glides forward, and some Dauntless start _jumping on! _I guess this is normal now. Before I know it, everyone in black is on the train, and only teenagers that transferred are left.

I start jogging forward and I throw myself sideways into the train car, forgetting that Beatrice is smaller than me. I trip, stumble, and nearly fall out, but a girl in black and white—Candor, I've learned—pulls me back in.

"Thanks," I say, still catching my breath.

"You all right?" the girl asks. She is tall, and has dark brown skin and short brown hair.

"Yeah."

"I'm Christina," she says, and offers me her hand.

I almost say Katniss, but catch myself so it sounds like "K-Beatrice" when I introduce myself.

"Do you know where we're going?" Christina has to shout it because of the loud wind. I shrug, and sit down in order to not fall out. She raises an eyebrow at me.

"I don't want to fall out. The train's picking up speed, and I'm so small that the wind might push me out," I practically shout.

As if on cue, Christina stumbles from the blowing wind. I reach out to grab her, but it is unnecessary because she catches herself and sits down next to me.

"Smart idea. You sure you're not Erudite?" she asks.

I must've gone pale, because she thinks it necessary to clarify, "Relax, I'm kidding! A Stiff like you must be Dauntless to make the 'selfish' decision of transferring." She says "selfish" using finger quotes. "Sorry, was using 'Stiff' rude? I'm Candor, my mom always says 'politeness is deception in pretty packaging.'"

Since I don't even know what 'Stiff' means, I just say, "It's fine."

More wind rushes through, the others fall on top of each other. Christina and I laugh, though the wind is so loud that we can't hear each other.

* * *

After about a half hour of sitting with my back against the wall of the train, I hear a boy shouting, "They're jumping off!"

I lift my head and see that the boy is right: the other Dauntless are jumping from the train onto a roof. We are seven stories up.

"We have to jump off too, then," says a Candor girl.

"Great," a Candor boy replies, "because that makes perfect sense, Molly. Leap off a train onto a roof."

"This is kind of what we signed up for, Peter," Molly retorts.

"Well, I'm not doing it," the only Amity transfer says. Tears slide down his cheeks.

"You've got to or you fail," Christina tells him and, inadvertently, me. "Come on, it'll be alright."

"No, it won't! I'd rather be factionless than dead!"

Now that I think about it, there are only five factions. There's no way everyone can fit into one of five. _Well, of course not,_ I think, _apparently I can fit into three. _But what did Tori call it? Divergent? Factionless must be fitting into no faction. And I have a feeling that being factionless isn't a good thing.

"You're not going to die, you'll be fine!" Christina says, still trying to convince the Amity boy to jump.

"I won't! I'll miss the ledge! I'll fall and die!" He says, panicking.

It may be insensitive of me, but I don't feel like staying on the train and becoming factionless just because this kid won't jump. "You can't convince him to jump. He made his choice. Let's go," I tell Christina, possibly harsher than necessary.

She seems a little shocked—probably at my harshness—but nods and offers me her hand. "Here. I just...can't do it unless someone drags me."

I grab her hand and we walk to the edge of the car. As it starts to pass the roof, I count, "One, two, _three!"_ and we jump onto the roof. There is a sensation of weightlessness, and then my feet slam into the solid roof. I land on my feet at first, but I fall because I am still clutching Christina's hand.

"That was fun," she says, and I agree.

I look around the roof. At first, it seems that everyone but the Amity boy made it onto the roof. Some people got hurt—the Candor girl, Molly, is holding her ankle—but it looks like everyone is here.

And then I hear the scream. The scream similar to the ones I heard after the mine explosion that killed my father. I search for the source of the sound, and see two Dauntless—a boy and a girl. The former is keeping the latter from falling off of the roof as she leans over the side.

"Rita," he says. "Rita, calm down. Rita—"

I stand and look over the edge. A girl's body is on the pavement below, sprawled out in a similar way as a tribute that I saw die in a previous Games. I was starting to think that this place was safer than the arena. I'm no longer sure. Rita sinks to her knees and sobs. With a lump in my throat, I walk away.

"Listen up! My name is Max! I am one of the leaders of your new faction!" shouts a man and the other end of the roof. He stands on the ledge like someone didn't just fall to her death from it. "Several stories below us is the members' entrance to our compound. If you can't muster the will to jump off, you don't belong here. Our initiates have the privilege of going first."

"You want us to jump off a ledge?" an Erudite girl asks.

"Yes," says Max, an amused look on his face.

"Is there water at the bottom or something?"

"Who knows?"

This is getting annoying, and I'll admit, a little frightening. I'll have to jump, and I really don't want to.

The crowd in front of the initiates splits in half, creating a path. No one looks eager to jump first. They all look away, brushing off gravel or nursing minor wounds.

"Well? Are any of you fit for Dauntless?" Max asks after about thirty seconds with no volunteers.

I try to think. They can't kill us, right? At least, I don't think so. Maybe there _is _water at the bottom.

"Are there going to be any new Dauntless members or not?"

I walk to the ledge. I don't know why, but I feel like I should. I've jumped out of trees before, and walked away unscathed. Granted, I've never jumped from _quite _this high, but I'm holding onto hope that this is a dream, and I'll wake up soon. After all, my being here makes no logical sense whatsoever.

I look down and have to remind myself that I will land safely at the bottom, though it's hard when I'm not entirely convinced. I take one last look at the other initiates, and I jump.

* * *

**Beatrice's POV**

I check the time. Almost ten. I try not to think, because I'll end up stressed out all over again. It only lasts for a few seconds, because by the time I meet Peeta and Effie at the elevator, I find myself thinking about how I can get back home. If I pray hard enough, will I end up back in the aptitude testing room?

The elevator doors opening snapped me out of my thoughts. I see an enormous room filled with obstacle courses and various weapons. We're not late, but we are the last ones to arrive. The other tributes are standing in a circle. Everyone has a cloth square with what I'm guessing is their district number pinned to their shirts. Peeta and I are the only two dressed in the same outfits.

When we join the circle, the head trainer, Atala, begins to explain the training schedule. Experts in each skill will remain at their stations. We will be free to travel from area to area, per our mentor's instructions. Some of the stations teach fighting techniques, and the others teach survival skills. We cannot fight any other tribute. If we need to practice, there are assistants.

When Atala releases us, a group of six tributes—the tributes from One, Two, and Four, I notice—head over to the weapons and wield them perfectly. Peeta nudges my arm. "Where would you like to start?"

I look around. Everyone is gathered by the weapons. I guess that means that we should, too. I decide to start with the smallest weapon I can find. "Knives," I tell Peeta.

We head to the knife-wielding station and I grab a few knives for Peeta and me, taking care to avoid an angry-looking girl from District Two who hasn't missed her target once since we arrived.

I stand a few yards away from the target. _Haste will not help, _I hear my mother say in my head. She told me that when I was learning to knit. I need to think of this not as a physical exercise, but a mental exercise. I watch the girl from Two and try to copy her stance and arm motions. It comes easily; maybe from muscle memory.

When I throw for the first time, it hits close to the center of the target. I see the Two girl looking over at me suspiciously. I try to appear mediocre with my next knife, but I know I'm already a target.

Peeta picks the next station: camouflage. He genuinely seems to enjoy it, using items from nature to paint as well as the artists in Amity can, maybe better. In fact, after some time I can no longer tell the difference between his arm and a tree.

"I do the cakes," he tells me.

"Cakes?" I ask, and immediately regret it. Katniss would know that, right?

"At home. The iced ones, for the bakery," he replies.

He learned that from frosting cakes? It makes me think of all the talent going to waste, all the lives that will never be fully lived. I can only hope that this is my aptitude test. Of course, it seems a little unlikely. But this kind of world also seems unlikely to exist.

I need to stop worrying about whether this is real or fake. I need to _survive._

* * *

**A/N: It was short. I know. Especially the last part. But I think these chapters might be around this length from now on. Sorry! Thank you to Wrenlovesreading for reviewing! Bye!**

**-IVolunteerAsDauntless**


	7. Not a chapter, sorry!

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**I never thought I would be a person who made author's notes as entire chapters, yet here I am. My work. Is. Crap. I've decided to rewrite the chapters to make them more realistic and less… well crap. I suggest you read them when I reupload them, since I may change the events of some chapters.**

**And now for the elephant in the room. I have avoided this fic for nearly two months. You have every right to be mad at me. Even **_**I'm **_**mad at me. **_**Mango **_**is definitely mad at me (read MangoSmoothie6's review… you'll know which one I'm talking about.) It's not so much I got writer's block, it's more my sudden burst of creativity went away. But it's back now, so I plan on using it well. And yes, I know I just failed at showing the world that preteens can be responsible. Sorry. We can be, but just not me in particular… sorry guys I failed you.**

**And I'm rambling. I'm **_**really sorry, **_**guys. Also, I'll be updating sporadically now, which is what I was doing before anyway, but now it's official. So…**

**Sorry. So, so sorry.**

**-IVolunteerAsDauntless **


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